


When Good Things Go Bad

by AntiJill



Category: Iron Man (Movies), MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Irondad, Marvel - Freeform, Other, Peter is a Little Shit, Spider-Man - Freeform, and tony's had it up to here, enjoy i guess?, here ya go, i'll go home, mcu - Freeform, more like spider boy, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:06:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntiJill/pseuds/AntiJill
Summary: If you've gotten this far, thank you! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, thanks for taking the time to read it. I'll hopefully be uploading another chapter in a few days, but let me know if you want me to continue, and what your thoughts are!





	1. Chapter 1

Tony never wanted to care about the kid. He never expected to, either. If he was being honest with himself, he’d never liked kids much to begin with. Even the idea of having ones of his own had never appealed to him- well, not until recently, but...no, it wasn’t important at the moment. Just a thought. What was important, right now, was Peter. Why wouldn’t it be? It wasn’t like he had a multitude of other things to worry about, right now- the Stark Expo, the issue with the malfunctioning Iron Man Suits, the spat with Pepper- let’s call it a spat- , the hiatus-that-was-probably-a-break-up of the Avengers- and that was only a small percentage of the worries and issues that currently plagued his mind. So it was only reasonable, in his mind, anyway, that he was more than a little irritated when he got a call just after he’d set his phone down and closed his eyes, only for a moment’s rest. With a grunt, he leans over, picking up the vibrating cell phone from the coffee table. As soon as he picks up, the caller speaks.

“Hey- Tony? It’s May.”

Oh, Christ. This can’t be good.

“Hey, May!” Tony says, putting as much pep in his voice as is appropriate for an entirely unexpected phone call at just past 7pm. He would be lying if he said it doesn’t take effort. “Is everything alright?”

“I was just going to ask you that, actually. How’s Peter? He’s not answering his phone.”

Tony is quiet for a moment, brow furrowing.

“Why are you asking, May?” He asks quietly. “You don’t know?”

“I thought you would.”

“...why?”

“Because he said he was with you.”

And that’s when Tony knows his night is about to go very, very downhill.

 -

Tony really needs to learn not to give tech to kids. It's obvious, or, it _should have_ been, now that he reflects on it. Would you give a diamond ring to a baby? No, of course not. They're expensive and valuable, and, babies being babies, an infant is likely to shove it in their mouth, choke on it, and kill themselves. The bigger the ring, the more dangerous, too. So, why, oh why did Tony think it was a good idea to give Peter such high tech equipment? And even more so, give it to a smart kid! Smart enough that he’d have the brains to hack into Tony’s carefully laid programming and shut down or cancel any functions that would allow Tony to know of his whereabouts, and more importantly, _protect_ him! Is Tony mad about this? Absolutely. But even more than that, he’s worried. The kid would only shut it off if he was doing something he knew Tony wouldn’t agree with and try to shut down, and the billionaire’s got a feeling he didn't go on a coffee run at one of the cafes downtown.

God.

He’s tried calling him repeatedly, but of course, there’s no answer, which isn’t a surprise. He got in touch with Ned, too, but he hasn’t seen his friend in a few hours. So all that Tony’s got is some lie from Peter about being with the stressed out billionaire, an aunt who’s worried sick over her missing nephew, and the beginning of what’s probably a migraine going. Fantastic.

He’s gotten a bit creative with his voicemails, which range from irate and semi-threatening:

_“Peter, it’s me. Kid, if you don’t pick up the fucking phone, I swear, so help me-”_

To pleading, bribing, which is very unlike Tony:

_“Kid, come on, please. Just answer the phone, or call, or text, or just come here, or to May’s- I promise you won’t get in trouble, we’re just worried sick, please let us know you’re okay-”_

To faux relaxed and at ease:

_“Kid, it’s me, again. I’m a bit calmer now, sorry for losing my temper. Just check in, please? Let us know everything’s good.”_

It’s safe to say that none of his calls have been returned.

He’s tried convincing an obviously frantic May to come over to his place, cause he doesn’t really feel that being alone and panicking is the best idea at the moment. His efforts are in vain, however, with May insisting that she had to be at her apartment when Peter came home. Not if. _When._

Tony wishes that he could be as hopeful, but he’s afraid past experience has robbed him of that possibility.

He hates being helpless, hates feeling useless. He’s the Tin Can Man with a Plan! He likes having a blueprint, likes knowing what’s happening, and when pieces aren’t where they should be, it seriously sets him off. He’s got a brief thought of grabbing the suit and doing a flyover, scoping the city, but he knows that wouldn’t be any use- who’s to say Peter’s in the city at all? He’d almost certainly never find him. So he busies himself with thoughts of what he’ll do to Peter when he gets a hold of him- will he kill him? Hug him? Maybe hug him, _then_ kill him. God, is this how Howard felt when Tony pulled one of his stunts, back in his ‘rebellious’ teenage years? If it is, then he can’t blame his father for not really bothering with Tony- kids are a headache.

He wishes Pepper were here, but she promised she’d be working late tonight, and Pepper never breaks a promise. It’s one of the things he loves about her, he can trust her with anything. It’s also one of the things that make this situation so much worse- the fact that Tony not only screwed up, but took that for granted. Pepper is a woman who deserves the world and nothing less, and that Tony can’t give it to her due to his own stupidity is immensely frustrating for the billionaire. If he hadn’t been so moronic, he might have had her here, calming him down, reassuring him that everything would turn out okay, and even if it didn't, they’d face it together. Or maybe she would be angry with him, take part of the weight from his shoulders, so he wouldn’t have to carry it alone. If Tony hadn’t been so stupid, he wouldn’t be sitting on this damn couch, his chest starting to ache from panic, from the crushing, squeezing knowledge that Peter is his responsibility, that if something happened- happens- to him, that it’s on him, and-

 _“Sir- your breathing has become labored, and your heart rate has increased. You seem to be experiencing the beginning of an anxiety attack.”_ The calm, familiar voice of J.A.R.V.I.S breaks through Tony’s thoughts, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for it. _“Would you like me to guide you through some breathing exercises?”_

Tony shakes his head, finding J.A.R.V.I.S’s voice to be enough to bring him back down to earth, stopping the attack before it could get far.

“No, thank you. I-I’m alright.” he says, and runs his palms over the fabric of his jeans, sighing out quietly. He doesn’t really know what’s going on, with this. He used to be relatively okay, under stress- maybe he didn’t have the most healthy of coping mechanisms, but aside from that, he dealt with things. But now, ever since New York...he’s more and more on edge, he can see it. At times, it feels like the smallest thing, like spilling a bit of a drink when he’s pouring it, can set him off, make him want to cry or scream or hit something, make his chest feel tight and his palms clammy, fingers shake. It’s one of the things he hates about humans and loves about machines- they don’t have to deal with this kind of stuff. If coded properly, built correctly, a machine can tackle pretty much any problem within its range of abilities with relative, admirable ease. Even more so, in the case that the issue is outside of their field, another machine with the capability steps in and gets the job done. Why can’t it be that easy with humans? People expect you to be able to handle anything and everything they throw at you and more- at the very least, they expect you to try and tackle it. An inadequate mind is less than suitable for such situations, and the added burden and heavy weight of emotion doesn’t make things any easier. It’s at times like these that Tony envies machines, even the most irksome and inconvenient, like Dum-E, for instance.

 _“Sir.”_ Once again, J.A.R.V.I.S pulls him from his thoughts, and Tony blinks, nods, swallows down the lump in his throat.

“I’m alright, J.A.R.V.I.S.” He says, but he knows the A.I isn’t convinced- honestly? He’s not sure if he himself is. Scary when you can’t fool yourself with your own bullshit, isn’t it?

_“Sir, I highly suggest you contact someone who can help, you can’t handle this situation on your own.”_

At this, Tony can’t help but laugh a bit, and it sounds a bit crazy when he hears it. Who the fuck would he talk to? Pepper’s made it clear that she’s had enough of him for the moment, the Avengers are good as through, Rhodey’s off on some assignment or something...he can’t think of anyone.

He has no one.

Tony’s not sure how he feels about that.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s several hours later, now, and there’s still no sign of Peter. At some point in the last hour or two, May arrived at Tony’s place, saying that the small apartment felt stuffy and was suffocating her, and she was only pacing the empty, small place and working herself up more. The last he saw her, she was headed down to the lounge with a headache. Pepper’s come back from the office, but the cold attitude she gives Tony makes it clear from the very start that all is not forgotten, let alone forgiven, and Tony’s no fool- she’s not doing this for him. She’s doing it for Peter, for May, and rightfully so.

A missing person’s report has been filed. The police say they’ll be involved shortly, and although this irritates Tony- what good are they shortly, he needs them _now_ \- it soon comes to light that his annoyance is in vain. Less than forty-five minutes after this, J.A.R.V.I.S speaks after a rather long period of silence. His voice is unexpected and causes Tony to jump a bit, his nerves already on edge. To the inventor, it almost sounds as though J.A.R.V.I.S is…well, it sounds like the AI is surprised. And Tony doesn’t really have to think hard to figure out why, when the AI delivers the news-

_“Sir, Peter is here. He just arrived, and he’s approaching as we speak.”_

“Wait-” Tony starts, trying to make sense of this statement. Before he can get very far, however, the door slides open with a soft, almost silent whisper, and true to J.A.R.V.I.S’s word, in walks the kid. Tony’s expecting to see the kid battered and bruised, bloody and cut up and looking about as bad as Tony feels.

But no. The kid looks… fine. Better than fine, actually. In fact, he’s...smiling! And alright, granted, it’s a nervous smile from the looks of it, the young web-slinger almost certainly picking up on the tension and stress in the air. Anyone could, no Spidey Sense needed. The smile doesn’t look or feel right, to Tony, not at all. Tony’s been on the break of losing it for hours, now- and he has the nerve to smile?

Tony begs to differ.

“Um- hey, Mr. Stark.” Peter says, his voice higher than the usual cadence commonly found in pre-pubescent teenage boys. Taking a gander, Tony says it’s fear. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I don’t know.” Tony says, and he crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at the boy, both gaze and voice as hard as flint and just as unforgiving. “Why don’t you tell me, Peter?”

Shifting uneasily under Tony’s judging stare, the kid won’t meet Tony’s gaze for more than a second, his eyes darting everywhere and anywhere. The Avenger is relentless, though, holding his gaze, his eyes boring into Peter in a way that makes the kid feel it on his skin. It’s not a pleasurable sensation, he can say that much.

“T-tell you what, Mr. Stark?” He asks, and he knows the game is up before it’s even begun, the stutter just showcasing his guilt for the billionaire to see. Tony seems to be the interrogator at the moment, which will certainly lead to him being handed off to his Aunt May, who undoubtedly will play the role of judge, jury, and executioner. The question, however, is _how much does he know?_

Peter isn’t sure if he wants to dick around and find out the unpleasant way, or if he should just come clean. If he spills, he might get himself in even more trouble than needed.

“Cut the crap, kid, you know what I’m talking about.” Tony says, interrupting Peter’s frantic internal planning. “Your aunt, Pepper, me- we’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours. May and I reported you _missing,_ Peter. You weren’t answering calls or texts.”

“Mr. Stark, I-I can-”

“What? You can explain? Please, do. And don’t give me any of that crap about losing track of time, or- or- or-” he scowls, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment and closing his eyes, taking a breath. He can feel the pressure building up in his chest as he gets more and more worked up, and right now, the last thing he needs is an erratic mind. He needs to think clearly. Composing himself, he lets his hand fall to his side as he lifts his head, and he speaks again, more deliberate this time, controlled. “You hacked into the suit and disabled the tracker, messed with the coding. You even took Karen offline. You knew what you were doing, and you better have a damn good reason, kid.”

Peter’s face blanches, and he feels sweat start to bead along his brow as he goes into panic mode. It’s worse than he thought.

“I didn't think it’d be so bad, it wasn’t a big deal-” he rushes out, but once again, the Avenger stops him cold.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” he repeats, his voice quiet. “It wasn’t a big deal? Peter- Peter, what the hell?” he bursts out, the calm composure cracking momentarily, and he takes a breath to seal up the fissure. “What if something happened to you? You seem to be fine, but what if something happened while you were off doing- doing whatever? What if you got hurt, or- or- do you realize how big of a fuck up that was? What made you think even for a moment that that was a good idea?”

Peter stares with wide eyes, but it’s clear Tony’s just getting started, and he makes no move to stop the bull in its charge.

“God forbid something fucking happened to you, I would have had no idea. I would have no way of getting to you, Peter- you could have died, and i wouldn’t have even known till it was too damn late. When I gave you the suit, I put that tracker in there for a reason, Peter! To keep a watch out, cause you’re my responsibility! I gave you the suit hoping you’d be responsible enough to fucking use it properly. Obviously, I was wrong, but either way- you’re a kid, Peter. A kid! You’re my responsibility, and I installed that software to keep you safe, not for you to fucking disable because you’re a big boy, and feel like going swinging through the city without anyone knowing.” he takes a breath, and bites his lip. God, his head hurts. He needs a drink. “Kid- when you’re out there, it’s up to me to make sure you get home safe to May’s for dinner each night. She’s putting her trust in me when you do this, trusting that I’ll keep you safe. And if something happens to you- that’s on me.”

This time, when the inventor pauses, Peter takes the opportunity, and rushes to his own… defense? Maybe not defense, but...the point still stands.

“I understand that, sir. I didn't mean to cause this, I know that-”

“No, you don’t!” Tony bursts out, and his voice is much louder than it was moments before. “You _don’t_ fucking know, so just shut up and listen for once!” His hands are shaking, and he crams them into his pockets. “Pete- as long as you’re wearing that suit, you’re as good as my own kid. Even when you’re not in the suit. If something happens to you, and I could’ve done something and prevented it, it’s on me. It’s pretty brave of you that you’d actively try and work against that.”

This time, Peter says nothing. He just nods.

Tony’s right.

Of course he is.

The two stand in silence for a good few seconds, and Peter feels like he’s on a high-stakes game show or something, and wonders who’s going to break first. He doesn’t get an answer, however, as the door opens again, and his aunt rushes in, her eyes frantic, her hair, almost always kept in order and done, if simple, something of a mess, a few renegade strands popping up here and there. This seems to be the least of her worries, however, as she rushes over and pulls Peter to her in a hug that might very well result in internal bleeding. After a moment or so, she pulls away, holding him at arms length, hands on his shoulders and eyes giving him the up and down before they migrate to his cheeks, cupping his face. She scans his face, her eyes, a dark brown with little crows feet at the corners, staring into his own, seeming to pry answers from her nephew.

“Peter?” She asks, and Peter feels the guilt well up _again._

This is so much worse than anything Tony could say.

The male swallows, swallows down saliva, along with any excuses he might have attempted.

He’s not getting out of this, and honestly? He doesn’t feel like he should.

“Peter… Peter, where did you go? Baby, I was so worried, I called you, I texted you- Peter, I called the police.” May says, and Peter bows his head.

“I know.” he says quietly, and May stares at her nephew for another moment as though she doesn’t recognize him before shaking her head.

“I don’t think you do.” She whispers, and the disappointment is tangible in her voice, visible on her face. The fear, the relief, the anger, the compromise of trust. She glances over at Tony, who’s wandered off a few feet, never comfortable with the idea of intruding on private, family moments. “Thank you, Tony.” she says, and the philanthropist looks over at her, offering her a slight smile.

“Not a problem, May.” he says, and looks at Peter before his gaze returns to his aunt.

“I’m gonna take Pete home. Thanks for everything, really.” Tony waves the praise off, the painting of humility.

“Just glad the kid’s okay.” he mutters, and May nods.

“Come on, Peter.” she says, like Peter is five again, a toddler that has to be instructed and led around. She heads to the door and waits for the boy, who looks at Tony once more. When he’s not acknowledged, he practically slinks after his aunt, tail between his legs, and listens as the door slides shut with a gentle hiss, the soft thud it makes when closed completely. As opposed to the slamming of a wooden door and its finality, this seems much more anticlimactic… and more impersonal and damning at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far, thank you! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, thanks for taking the time to read it. I'll hopefully be uploading another chapter in a few days, but let me know if you want me to continue, and what your thoughts are!


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